


A Queen's Tender Care

by HouseofTheBear



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: An Extended Depiction of Injury, And a bit of humor too, Depiction of Violence, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Most of this story takes place on a boat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 05:59:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12426459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseofTheBear/pseuds/HouseofTheBear
Summary: Daenerys must care for an injured Jorah after he saves her life on the battlefield. Feelings she had kept long buried rise to the surface as she nurses him back to health. AU from 7x04 "The Spoils of War" onward.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, it's been a while since I lasted posted something. This was inspired by a suggestion by @thepathtovalhalla (seconded by @jorahssquire) on tumblr. I took it and ran with it. It ended up being a lot longer than I originally intended. I was going to post it in installments, but I figured I wouldn't make you all wait.
> 
> Italics in the story indicate dreams/inner thoughts (it will be obvious in its usage, I hope). 
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters and any other mentions of places/things/people from the world of GOT belong to their respective owner/s (GRRM and/or HBO) and I stand to gain nothing from this. Strictly entertainment. Don't sue me!

Chaos.  There was simply no other way for Daenerys to describe what was happening around her.  The sounds and smells of battle encircled her; the cries of her Dothraki warriors ringing through the air as they slaughtered the Lannister soldiers.  The pounding of hoof beats as horses, mounted with riders, charged their adversaries.  The crackling of the fires as they burnt through wood and flesh.  The acrid smoke filling her lungs.  It all became a hum to her ears, as she busied herself in removing the spear from Drogon’s side.  She knew he could not fly her to safety if she did not take it out first, so she tugged and pulled with all of her might to remove it from where it was firmly lodged in his flesh.  He screeched and roared in pain, but it was no use.

                Behind her, she faintly heard the splashing of water and the sound of a single horse approaching, galloping quickly.  She turned around swiftly to see a man on a white horse charging her, a spear clutched in his left hand.  It was pointed directly at her and he closed on her so quickly that, for a second, she froze, her limbs unwilling to cooperate with her mind’s directions.  She swallowed hard as she prepared for what was to come.  From the corner of her vision, she saw a man dressed in a black cloak running toward her.  She felt a sharp jolt as the man shoved her from the path of the charging horse, then a sickening sound of spear breaking through metal and tearing flesh as the man fell to the ground, unmoving.  The rider was thrown from his horse as it reared up on its hind legs in a vain attempt to avoid Drogon as he wheeled his head around, a jet of searing fire issuing from his mouth.  The horse was burned where he stood, falling to the ground dead.  Through the haze of the fire, Daenerys could see a man helping the downed rider from the ground and running off together.  She turned to her right, the man in black still lying on the ground.  _Who could have saved me?_ , she thought, as she scrabbled on her hands and knees to his side.  The hood of the cloak obscured most of his face, which was turned away from her.  He was still alive, but barely, as she watched the erratic rise and fall of his chest as he struggled to breathe.  Kneeling at his side over him, she pulled back the hood of his cloak and it fell from her hands as she realized who had saved her life.  Her hands flew to her mouth as she inhaled sharply, tears beginning to sting her eyes.

                “Jorah!”, she exclaimed, her vision becoming blurry as tears welled in her eyes before falling onto his cheek. 

                He turned at the sound of her voice, so full of sorrow and fear.  He felt wetness on his cheek and he knew it was from her tears as she cried over him.  She rested her hand against his cheek and he smiled faintly at her.  _My beautiful Khaleesi_ , he thought, accepting the realization that this may be the last time he would ever see her face.  He swallowed weakly, and using the little strength he had left, he held her gaze and whispered, “Daenerys…I love you.”  And he slipped into the dark void that engulfed him.

                She heard the quiet final proclamation of his love, and she sobbed as his eyes fell shut.  “No, Jorah…”.  She wiped the tears from her face with the backs of her hands and taking a determined breath, she decided, _I will not let him die_.  She rose to her feet and bent to grip him under his shoulders to pull him onto Drogon.  She tried with all her might, but Jorah was a tall man and very heavy.  She scanned her surroundings and saw some of her Dothraki nearby.  She shouted to them in Dothraki to help her, and when they arrived, they hefted Jorah’s limp body up onto her dragon.  As they did this, she braced her foot against Drogon’s side and wiggled the spear from side to side before finally managing to pull it from his hide.  Once Jorah’s body was secured between two of the spines on his back, she took off to the coast, a boat waiting there to take her far away from Lannisport.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer still applies!

She arrived at the shore, calling to the men on the ship to come to her aid.  A group of them ran to her as she slid Jorah carefully down the side of Drogon’s body and into the waiting arms of the men.  They carried him to the ship, his arms dangling limply from his side.  Tyrion stood on the deck of the ship, surprise crossing his features as he watched the men carry him below deck.  He had been certain he would never see Mormont again.  He watched as Daenerys swiftly followed the men, her eyes red from tears, but her gaze fiercely determined.

                Tyrion followed as quickly as he could behind her, to the end of the hallway and into the doorway of her private chambers.  The men laid Jorah’s body on her feather bed, as she began to remove first his armor and then his clothing from his body, leaving him in only his stained and bloodied breeches.  The spear had sliced the left side of his body just above his hip bone through his armor, but the wound was not nearly as deep or large as Daenerys had first feared it would be.  The armor had protected him from a far worse injury.  Blood was caked to his scarred torso and it still seeped slowly from the wound at his side, pooling on the feather mattress beneath him.  Tyrion watched from the doorway as she ordered the men in the room to bring clean cloths and water, hurrying from her side to complete the task.  He stepped into the room to survey Jorah’s wound from a better angle and saw at one glance it was not as bad as he had first thought.

                “Your Grace,” he addressed her cautiously.  “Mormont may be strong man, but even simple wounds such as this can be fatal in the end.”

                Daenerys could not meet his gaze as she busied herself trying to stop the bleeding as gently as possible with the edge of her gown, so as to not cause him any further injury or pain.  “He is strong and he will heal”, she said, her voice firm but full of emotion.  Tyrion could hear the sadness in her voice, and he had spent enough time in her presence to know there would be no dissuading her when it came to Jorah.  She turned her face to regard him then, and with her eyes full of tears, she whispered, “He cannot die.  I won’t let him.” 

                Jorah groaned in pain as she pressed her gown firmer to the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding as best she could until the men returned with cloths and water.  Bright red blood seeped through the fabric of her dress and coated her fingers.  She placed a hand softly on his chest; his heart racing under her palm.  _You will not die_ , she thought, as Missandei and two men returned with the clean cloths and large bowls of water.  Missandei also carried a few small clay jars, which Daenerys had seen a woman use on her husband long ago.  Missandei then ushered Tyrion and the other men from the room, leaving Daenerys to tend to him alone. 

                She soaked the cloths in the water, taking one to wash the dried blood from his skin while she held another firmly to the open wound.  He was bleeding less now, a single minor trickle instead of the gush that had been there before.  His skin was pale and clammy to the touch, his breath shallow as he made soft sounds of pain now and again.  _You will not die_ , she repeated to herself, as she exchanged one cloth, red and heavy with blood, for a fresh clean one.

                Two of his fingers touched the hand that tended to his side and Daenerys’ gaze shot to his face.  He fought to keep his eyes open as he struggled to speak, “Khaleesi…you need to…close…the wound.”

                She looked at him, her brow furrowed as she squeezed his large hand softly, “Jorah, I do not know-“

                 She watched the muscles of his neck as he swallowed roughly, “A soldier…will.”

                She got up from the bed and ran to the door of the chamber, and upon opening it, yelled for a Dothraki to come at once.  A moment passed before one hurried down the corridor to her and she stood aside for him to enter.

She ordered him to seal the wound and he heated his knife in the candles on the side table until she was sure that the knife was hot, but it did not glow.  She sat on the bed at his side, her hands resting on his arm and chest.  His eyes held hers as the soldier pressed the knife to Jorah’s side and while she may not have wanted to see his suffering, she found she could not look away.  The sounds of searing flesh and Jorah’s guttural cry of agony filled the cabin, her heart breaking at the pain etched on his face and evident in his voice.  Once he was done, she nodded to the man before he responded in kind and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Daenerys closed her eyes briefly when she finally saw the closed wound, the skin surrounding it was burnt, blistered, and angry red; however, the wound was indeed closed.  She rose from his side and opened the jars and combined the contents of each into a bowl and applied the resulting poultice to the wound, covering it with a cloth.  Jorah hissed when she applied the cold concoction before exhaling softly, his breath becoming less shallow with each passing moment.  Taking a blanket from the foot of the bed, she covered Jorah to his shoulders in an attempt to ward off the slight chill of the room.  She sat back down in the wooden chair and sighed as she looked at him.  She let the tears fall then, as she sat there alone by his side, her shoulders shaking as she wept.  _You must not die_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, there's the disclaimer again!

Missandei returned to Daenerys’ quarters later that day to see if there was anything that she required before placing a small tray of food on the wooden table by the bed.  She couldn’t look at the food; it turned her stomach to even consider eating.  She handed her Jorah’s long black cloak and tunic, caked with mud and dried blood, and asked her to have it cleaned.  She wanted it to be ready for when Jorah awoke.  Missandei simply nodded, not giving voice to the doubts she held, and left her as she had found her, sitting by the bedside, Jorah’s large hand wrapped in her small one.

                His rest was fitful as the boat sailed back to Dragonstone.  His brow was dotted with sweat and his body felt warmer than it should.  He muttered things in his sleep, many of the words the incoherent ramblings of hallucinations.  But some of them she understood clearly and her name was one he spoke often, accompanied by “love” or “sorry”.  Jorah was her fierce brave Knight, and to see him lying there injured and in pain made her heart ache.  Darkness began to fill the room as the sun set and Daenerys left his side only for a moment to light the candles nearby.  The room filled with their soft glow, highlighting Jorah’s strong cheekbones.  Taking a cloth and dipping it into the cool water, she pressed it gently to his dry cracked lips.  She sat down on the right side of the bed, careful to avoid his left, before she lay down gently by his side.  Her head rested on the pillow next to his as she watched the slow even rise and fall of his chest.  She placed her hand gently over his heart and felt that it no longer raced, its beat now steady and strong.

Earlier, when his condition was worse, Daenerys had begun to think that perhaps Tyrion may have been right.  She had seen what a simple wound could do to a strong man and she shook her head at the thought that Jorah would have the same fate as Drogo.  But Jorah was not her first husband, and she was determined to see him live.  Now, she simply lay by his side, talking to him in a gentle voice, telling him how strong he was and that this wound was no match for his heart or his spirit.  He was her bear, after all, she said.  Saying the words out loud the first time stunned her.  She had always thought of Jorah as brave and fiercely protective of her, so much like the bear of his house sigil.  But it was one thing to think the words in your mind, it was quite another to give them a voice.  The surprise was quickly replaced by a feeling that she was right to think of Jorah in this way and that she had been foolish for holding it in for so long.

The boat rocked gently.  On any other occasion, its movement would have put Daenerys at ease, and she would have slept peacefully.  Sleep would not come to her now, as she watched Jorah closely, looking for any signs of pain or distress.  He still mumbled in his sleep, but the words were fewer and farther between now.  She rose from the bed to wipe the sweat from his brow and pressed another cool damp cloth to his lips before she took a blanket from the foot of the bed to wrap around her shoulders.  She sat in the chair again, sliding it closer to the bed as she took his hand in hers once more.  It seemed so large to her, the skin on his palm and fingers pleasantly callused from years of wielding a sword and holding onto reins.  She traced her finger over the prominent veins on the back of his hand and remembered a time not so long ago when he had offered her this hand, to take her away from the danger posed by the Harpies to safety.  How she had looked into his eyes and seen him gazing earnestly back at her, asking without words for her to trust him one more time, to trust that he would protect her.  And she had taken his hand without another thought, because she did trust in him and in his ability to keep her safe as he had always done.  She rested her lips against his hand and inhaled the scent of his skin, like damp earth and winter trees, how she had always imagined his home would smell.  It calmed her and a thought crossed her mind briefly, _if he held her to his broad chest, would this scent linger there too?_ She found the thought of being held in his strong arms comforting, perhaps he could drive the nightmares that sometimes plagued her sleep far away.  And she realized she was not shocked that she wanted this from him, that she wanted to lie in his warm embrace and fall asleep to the sound of his deep voice murmuring sweet endearments to her.  She lifted her head to gaze at his face, wishing that she could see his clear blue eyes once again.  She had found such reassurance in their cool depths and how she desperately needed that now.  She climbed onto the bed once more, her head resting near his on the pillow.

She gazed at his strong profile as she whispered, “I had heard a Maester once say that a person cannot hear you when they are like you are now.  But I do not believe it is true.  I know you can hear me, Jorah. I need you to heal yourself.  I had commanded you to do it once before and I am asking it of you again now.”  She could feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, her voice cracking with emotion as she rested her hand on his chest.  “But I ask it of you now, not as your Queen, but as a woman.  One who needs you by her side.  Please do not leave me, Jorah.  Please.” The last word left her lips in a sob, as the tears began to fall.  It was then that she realized why her heart hurt so acutely at the thought of losing him, that she had never given a voice to the emotion she had held deep in her heart for him, locked away because she thought that she should not feel this way for him.  But she recognized this feeling could not have been more right, and in that moment, a feeling of certainty filled her and she said softly, “I love you, Jorah Mormont.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes...the disclaimer...yet again.

Jorah’s eyes blinked open slowly and he squinted before growing accustomed to the brightness of the light.  He found he lacked the strength to even keep his eyes open and so he closed them again, mentally assessing his condition.  His side ached painfully; however, it was not nearly as bad as it had been.  His last clear memory was Daenerys’ beautiful face gazing down at him, as tears streamed down her cheeks.  How he had wanted to take her in his arms and tell her he would be all right, but the pull of blissful unconsciousness was too strong and he decided not to fight it.  He had other memories too but he was not sure if they were the hallucinations of pain or if they had truly occurred: the soft sound of her voice as she told him how he was strong like the bear, _her bear,_ and the feel of her gentle warm hand as she held his larger one.  There was one memory, however, he was sure was a delusion of his mind. It was her voice, of that he was certain, but it was the words she spoke that were the illusion: “I love you, Jorah Mormont”.  He figured it was nothing more than the fevered wish of an injured man, his mind playing a cruel trick on him.  Whether it was real or not, Jorah held it in his mind and fed on the power it contained to heal himself.  He felt helpless lying abed, when he knew his Khaleesi needed him by her side, to serve and protect her, as she had commanded of him not long ago.

                He felt movement next to him, and turning his head slowly toward it, he half opened his eyes and found the wide gaze of his Queen staring back at him.  A smile broke across her face as she breathed, “Jorah.”  He could see tears of relief and joy shimmering in her eyes as her hand rose to rest softly on his cheek.  His eyes slid shut and he exhaled at her touch.  He swallowed against the rough dryness of his throat, his voice barely a whisper as he croaked, “Daenerys.”

                Her fingers ghosted over his lips as she murmured to him, “Shh, do not speak yet.  Rest and heal, my brave Knight.  I will be here when you wake again.”  Her words were the soothing balm his heart desperately needed.  He willingly obeyed, closing his eyes again, slipping into the sleep that beckoned with the knowledge that she was safe and by his side.

                She watched him until she was sure he was deeply asleep before she got up from the bed, and opening the door to her chambers, left to find Missandei to request food and water be brought.  Then she returned to his side, sitting once again in the chair at his bedside.  Her heart felt near bursting in her chest, the joy at knowing he would survive and be with her again, was nearly too much for her body to contain.  Missandei entered the room, carrying a small tray of food in one hand and a pitcher of water in the other.  Under her arm were Jorah’s clean clothes.  She placed the items in her hands on the small table before she turned to Daenerys, and with a small smile on her face, handed her his clothes.  “I am glad for Your Grace that Ser Jorah is on the mend.  Shall I inform the others?”

                “Yes, please do.”  she said with a smile before Missandei dismissed herself with a small nod.

                Daenerys set his tunic over the back of the chair before unfurling the cloak and pulling it around her shoulders.  She decided that if she could not have his arms around her yet, then his cloak would be a poor substitute.  Her stomach chose this moment to loudly protest its lack of food, so she poured herself a cup of water and took several slices of apple from the tray.  She took her place by his side again, gazing at him thoughtfully as she ate.  Despite his injury, Jorah looked healthy and _strong_.  When she had undressed him, she noticed no signs of the greyscale on his body, save for the still red scars that covered his arm and chest.  She assumed that whatever the cure had been had left them in its wake.  She knew Jorah and knew that he would be self-conscious of her seeing them, but she found that the scars did not disgust her.  On the contrary, it added to the visual story of his life and experiences with her, and a small part of her that made her blush found them attractive.  She found she wanted to trace her fingers over them, to touch his warm skin and feel it against her own.  These thoughts did not shock her, and she thought, _why should they_?  She had finally voiced her love for him and she realized that she felt regret at this, not regret for loving him, but rather, regret for not telling him long ago.  She thought back to when his betrayal had been revealed, and how he had dropped to his knees and begged her to forgive him, how her heart had felt torn in two.  She knew she needed to appear strong then for everyone who watched as she banished him, but in her heart, she had wanted to forgive him, for she knew then that the words he spoke were truth.  He had protected and fought for her, killed for her, and now thinking back on every instance of their time together, in Jorah’s own quiet way, he had loved her.  It was not the flamboyant love a man like Daario had shown her, but rather the gentle steady love of a strong man not prone to flashy outward displays of affection.  Or perhaps Jorah was a romantic at heart, his service to her preventing him from showing his true affection for her.

                She continued her vigil of him, taking small portions of food, just enough to keep her strength.  He no longer muttered in his sleep, and for that she was grateful.  He deserved to rest easy.  She lifted the blanket to check the wound and found nothing to indicate that it was infected.  A sigh of relief came from her at this; she could not bear to lose him.  He was so deeply connected to her that she feared if he ever did perish; a part of her would most surely die with him.

Much later, he awoke briefly and asked for water, so she supported his head in her hand and held the cup to his lips and gave him just a few sips of the cool liquid before she eased his head back to the pillow.  He sighed softy as he slipped into sleep once more.  On through the rest of the late afternoon and evening, he slept and woke a few more times asking again for water.  His voice grew stronger and his eyes stayed open longer with each passing request.  Daenerys could feel her eyelids growing heavy and she tried valiantly to stay awake, but to no avail.  She had been awake for nearly two whole days and the events of that time were stressful and had taken a great toll on her emotions as much as her body.  She decided she would rest for just a short while, climbing onto the bed next to him.  Her head lay on the pillow, and it was not long after that that she joined Jorah in his sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer applies.
> 
> A short description of erotica here. The really good stuff is coming up!

_The soft touch of his lips and warm breath on her neck, his whispers of adoration filling her ears.  He held her naked body to his, the hairs of his chest soft against her skin as they ghosted erotically over her nipples.  His callused fingers caressed her back and the hollows at the base of her spine as his lips moved over hers in a firm yet tender kiss.  “My love”, he murmured against her as their breath mingled, his hand continuing its journey, tracing over her delicate hipbone and down between their bodies to her center where…_

Daenerys woke with a start, her heart thundering in her chest.  She took several deep breaths to calm not only her heart but the raging desire she felt between her legs.  _I cannot be dreaming of him like this_ , she thought, _at least not now_.  She gazed at his face and was relieved to find him still asleep.  Her face felt flushed and she did not want to have to explain to him why it was so.  She must have slept longer than she intended to, for the sun lit the room with its brightness.  She got up from the bed, careful not to wake Jorah.  She stretched her arms over her head and pulled his cloak over her shoulders again.  Taking a cup from the table, she took a long drink of the cool water and ate another piece of fruit from the tray.  A soft knock came from the door, and she went to open it and found Tyrion standing there.

                “How is Mormont?” he said as he gazed around her to see him still lying in the bed.  “Hmm, I would have thought him up and about by now, glowering in his usual way.”  She regarded him with a small smile as he thought in silence for a moment, before continuing, “He may not believe it, but I have missed him.  No one glowers quite like him.”

                She chuckled.  “You can tell him yourself soon enough.  I think it would amuse him.”

                He feigned shock.  “Mormont amused?  I rather think not.”

                “I have seen Jorah laugh before, not many times, but enough to know he does.”

                “It is a sight, to be sure.  A rarity, though, I wager.”  He sighed.  “Well, I will leave you to _whatever_ it is you are doing with him in there.”  He hoped she heard the joking tone of his voice and her smile told him that she understood him perfectly.

                She watched him make his way down the hallway, shaking her head as she laughed softly at his parting words.  She shut the door gently and turned to find Jorah’s eyes open, his gaze fixed on her.

                “I am glad you did not allow Tyrion in here to see me like this.  I would never hear the end of it.”  His voice was still groggy, but much stronger than before.

                She smiled.  “He only does it because he cares for you.”  Her look became concerned as she took a seat beside him on the bed.  “How do you feel?”

                Jorah shifted under the blanket and Daenerys could not help but notice that it had slipped lower to reveal more of his chest to her gaze.  “Better than before, the pain is much less also.”  He sighed before he continued.  “I feel helpless lying here like this.  I do not want you to see me this way.”

                She placed her hand over his and squeezed it softly.  “You are far from helpless, Jorah.  You are injured.  There is a difference.”

                He looked down at where her hand rested on his and remembered in his fitful sleep how she had held his hand then too.  He met her eyes again and they regarded each other in silence for many long moments.  Jorah noticed something in her eyes was different from all of the other times they had looked at one another like this.  He saw affection in her gaze and his mind nearly could not believe it was true.  He thought for sure he was still asleep until she spoke again.  “Are you hungry or thirsty?”

                “I am thirsty.  I should perhaps eat something.  The thought of food is not necessarily appealing though.”

                She poured him a cup of water and handed it to him, before she went to retrieve the new tray of food and brought it back to allow him to choose what he liked.

                He chose fruit and a piece of dried meat, before he looked up at her, “You should not be serving me, Khaleesi.”

                She smiled at him then, a true full smile, for he could see the small dimple that dotted her cheek.  “I had missed you calling me that and I am so very happy to hear it again.”  She set down the tray before she continued, “For everything that you have done in service to me, Jorah, let me do this for you.  It only seems fair.”

                He gave her a gentle smile before he acquiesced and said simply, “All right.”

                Another knock came to the door, and she went to answer it.  A member of the crew spoke to her in hushed tones before she responded.  She then turned to Jorah.  “I am needed on deck.  I will return shortly.”

                 He nodded simply and she left closing the door behind her.  Once he was alone, he pulled back the blanket to survey his wound.  It was covered by a cloth, and lifting it, he saw it covered in a poultice.  He had been injured many times before and knew when a wound looked healthy.  The skin around the wound was not red or hot to the touch, and he felt certain this wound would heal well.  The scar it would leave would be another matter.  _What is one more_ , he thought, especially since incurring this one meant he had saved her life.  He felt tired again, even though he was sure he had slept at least a day or two.  He closed his eyes for a moment, but the pull of sleep was too strong, and he did not yet have the will to fight it.

                Daenerys returned to the room to find Jorah asleep once more.  His face looked so calm that she dared not wake him, so she left him to rest in peace.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer.
> 
> Things are moving along quite swimmingly for these two in this chapter.

Jorah awoke one morning to find the room empty, the sun playing hide and seek through the clouds.  He felt better and more rested than he had in some time, having spent the better part of two weeks in bed.  There was still the ache in his side, but it had grown dull and quite manageable.  He sat up slowly in bed before he swung his feet over the side to rest them on the wooden floor.  He felt no lightness in his head or dizziness, so he rested his hand on the back of the chair by the bed and stood.  His legs felt weak under him and he leaned his weight onto his right arm, supporting himself as he waited for his body to get used to standing again.  He took a deep breath and winced a bit as his side ached from inactivity.  He exhaled slowly and glanced down at the wound.  He peeled back the cloth and saw that it was only a red raised scar now.  He took a few cautious steps and when he did not feel anymore weakness in his muscles, he took a few more.  He stood at the door and opened it, the cool sea air from above deck wafted over him from the end of the hallway.  He could hear Daenerys’ voice becoming louder as she exited a room nearby.  She turned to him and her brows knit together in concern as she rushed to his side, leaving Tyrion to finish his sentence to the air.

                “Jorah, what are you doing up?” her voice was stern as she took his hand in hers and wrapped her arm around his waist.

                “I am fine, Khaleesi, and far too heavy for you to be supporting me.  I can walk on my own.  I did make it to the door after all.”  His tone was lighthearted, but he meant what he said.

                “I just…I do not want you to reinjure yourself.  I do not like to see you hurt.”

                “I am healed.  Check the wound yourself.”

                His answer was simple and she knew that Jorah was a stubborn man, so she released him when she arrived at the bedside.  He sat down on the bed as she bent to inspect the wound as he had suggested, discovering that he was in fact telling the truth.  The skin was still slightly red but completely sealed by a scar.

                He reached out for his tunic and Daenerys handed it to him.  He drew on first the right sleeve and then the left before lifting his arms to draw it over his head.  That action was too much and he gave a short groan as the skin on his left side stretched.

                “Here”, as she took hold of the cloth and helped him pull it over his head so that he would not have to lift his left arm.  Her hands went to the ties in the center of his chest and tied the ends together.  Her hands lingered there as he met her eyes, she had not realized that she stood so close to him as she could feel the bed against her knees and the slight press of his legs against the outside of her own.  Her fingers rested against the bare skin above the collar of his tunic, the skin pleasantly warm and the sparse hairs tickling the tips of her fingers.

                He watched as her eyes darted to his faintly parted lips before meeting his gaze again.  His eyes fell to her lips as the tip of her pink tongue ran over her bottom lip.  She bent a bit at the waist and pressed her lips against his own.  He froze in astonishment, but only for an instant before his hands reached out and rested on the gentle curves of her hips and he returned her kiss with a delicate eagerness.

                She moaned softly as his lips moved over hers, his kiss was tender but passionate and long held emotions flooded through her.  She clutched his tunic in her fists as he stood and wrapped his right arm around her.  She had to rise up on tip-toe to make up for the change in their heights as Jorah inclined his head slightly.  He pulled her flush against his body as he nibbled softly at her bottom lip before soothing it with a rasp of his tongue, physically asking if he could deepen the kiss.  Her tongue met his, and it was his turn to moan, for the first touch of them was like a spark.  They stroked one another, tasting and feeling, as her hands unfurled against his chest, touching what bare skin she could.  His hand splayed across her back, and she wished she wore no gown so she could feel the touch of his rough fingers against her skin.  She pulled back from the kiss for only a moment and caught her breath before she met his eyes; she saw her desire mirrored in them.  She kissed him again, savoring the feel of his lips, the gentle touch of his tongue against hers and the taste of his mouth.  She rested her forehead against his, their breaths mingling as they calmed their racing hearts.

                “Gods, Daenerys.  Your lips were made to be kissed, often and well.  I regret that I waited so long to kiss you.”  His voice was husky with need.

                “Had I known your kiss would be like this, I would not have made you wait.”  She ran her thumb over his bottom lip and his tongue darted out to lick gently at it.  An image appeared in her mind of his tongue tasting another, more intimate, place on her body and she trembled at the thought.  She met his eyes.  “Jorah, there is something I must tell you.”  His heart thundered in his chest.

“I regret that I did not tell you sooner that I love you.  I have lost so much time with you, time that could have been spent sharing our love together.”  She held his face in her small hands as she finished.  “I do not want to waste any more of the time we have.”

A throat cleared behind them and they both looked to see Tyrion standing in the still-open doorway.  “By the Seven, finally. I was beginning to think Mormont would never make a move.”  He regarded them with narrowed eyes for a moment before he continued, “Then again, if I was a betting man, I would say with certainty that it was our Queen that made the first move.”

Jorah made a noise in his throat akin to an angry growl and Daenerys regarded Her Hand with a raised eyebrow.  “I can take a hint.”  Tyrion said before adding quickly, “In case you’re hungry, supper is ready.”  And he bid a hasty retreat.

                Jorah and Daenerys looked at one another for a moment, then they broke into laughter.  He took her hand in his and regarded her with love clearly evident in his eyes.  “I do not want to wait anymore either, my love.  However, you and I both know Tyrion.  If we do not make an appearance at supper, who knows what stories he will tell.”

                As much as she wanted to close the door and spend all night in Jorah’s arms, she knew he was right.  “We will need our strength after all.”  Her words were laden with hidden meaning and he exhaled a long shaky breath at the playful lust in her eyes.

                “Let us take our leave before you change my mind.”

                They made their way to the large room that served as the dining hall, her arm linked in his as they entered.  Everyone glanced at them as they stood in the doorway, large smiles on their faces.  Jorah inclined his head to Daenerys as he whispered, “It would appear Tyrion has already been hard at work.”

He leveled a hard gaze at the Queen’s Hand, as he simply smiled proudly back at him.  Jorah sighed and guided her to her seat at the table before taking his own across from her.  Steaming bowls of fish stew and chunks of freshly baked bread sat waiting in front of them and Jorah found that he was famished.  Try as he might to not be rude and eat too quickly, he found he was nearly finished and Daenerys still had half of her bowl left.  It made her smile to see him well again and she watched as he spoke to a man beside him, something about fishing and Bear Island.  After a time, the bowls were taken away and desert was brought out: warm oatcakes with honey and sliced apples.

                Tyrion arched his eyebrow at his plate before he addressed the Knight, “If I am not mistaken, don’t bears like honey?”

Jorah knew exactly what Tyrion was up to and he refused to play into his game.  Instead, he caught Daenerys’ gaze and with passion burning in his eyes, he said, “They do.”  He watched a blush color her cheeks as she exhaled a soft breath, knowing that she was picturing the hidden meaning of his words in her mind.  He saw the same desire in her eyes and knew she was being consumed as well.

She rose from her chair and said, “I have no desire for desert tonight.  I bid you all good night.” Jorah saw the rest of the people at the table exchange knowing glances, but he did not care.  The way Daenerys looked at him now had desire pulsing through his veins.  They left the room as politely as possible and made their way back to her chambers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer applies.
> 
> Now this is how the Real BoatSex should have been.

The journey back to her chambers was interrupted often by touches and hurried kisses before she grasped his tunic in her hands and pulled him against her in the hallway, her kisses as eager as the press of his body.  Her skin felt feverish as she struggled to open the door of her chambers, Jorah’s mouth a heady distraction as he kissed along the back of her neck.  Once inside the room and the door shut, her hands went to her gown, intending to divest herself of it quickly.

                “Wait.”  There was such lust in his voice as he walked toward her slowly, his hands resting over hers at the fastenings of her dress. “Let me, Khaleesi.”

                Her hands fell to her sides as she watched Jorah’s deftly undo the stays before his fingers slipped under the cloth and eased it off her shoulders to pool at her feet.  She nearly felt his gaze as his eyes took in her beauty.  He sighed, his hand resting on her bare hip; the other held her face, their eyes locked.

                He leaned in to kiss her, tender and languid, as he memorized the feel of her lips, her fingers undoing the ties of his tunic.  She broke the kiss long enough to pull it over his head, letting it drop to the floor.  It was now her turn to gaze on his body.  Perhaps it was the passion of the moment that made Jorah proud to stand before her with his scarred chest bare.  There was a deep hunger in her eyes as her fingers traced over the definition of his chest and through what hair was left on his lean stomach, her hand stopping to rest on the laces of his breeches.  Oh, how she wanted him, the yearning for his body far stronger than she had ever felt for her husband or her lover and she felt a warm rush of wetness between her legs at thought of being finally joined with him.  She realized that it was a desire forged in a real and deep love, and that made it all the more intense.

                She turned and he ached to touch the gentle swell of her bottom as he watched her walk to the bed and lay down on her side upon it.  Her hand beckoned to him as she said, “Remove your breeches and join me, my sweet bear.  Let us make our pleasure real.”

                His chest swelled at her words, _my sweet bear_ , and he wasted no time divesting himself of his remaining clothes as he noticed her eyes widen slowly at the sight of his manhood now revealed to her, thick and proud from his nest of ginger curls, her tongue darting out unconsciously to lick her full bottom lip.  The bed dipped as he took his place by her side, his lips desperate for another kiss.  Her legs tangled with his, the fur there tickled her skin.  He kissed along her jaw, his fingers following the line of her shoulder and arm as he caressed her skin.  She sighed, he touched her so delicately, as if she was a fragile treasure to him, and the look in his eyes convinced her of this.  _Love comes in at the eyes_ , she thought, the words could not have been more true.  Her hand gripped his arm as he found a place along her throat that made her arch and whimper, gooseflesh covering her skin.  He moved down the bed slightly to kiss the tops of her breasts, his fingers caressing the full curve of the underside before his large hand nearly covered the expanse of her womanly belly.  She gave a soft cry of his name as the warmth of his mouth covered her and teased her nipple with his tongue, arching into his mouth for more.  He bestowed the same attention to her other breast as he groaned suddenly against her body, her hand abruptly grasping his manhood as she stroked him from root to tip.  She continued with slow sure strokes along his length.  The smallness of her hand belied her strength, and her touch nearly had him spilling himself right then like a young boy.

                “Daenerys, love, please. I am already close and I have not yet pleasured you.”  His breath was rapid as his eyes tried to make her understand that this was about her and her fulfillment first and foremost.  “Let me learn the mysteries of your body.  Let me taste the fragrant honey of your arousal and give you the ecstasy you deserve.”

                She moaned softly at his words and watched as he settled himself on his side at her center, his hand parting her legs as he gazed at her, the flower of her femininity in full bloom for him, a blossom in the height of its color, a deep pink and covered in her shimmering dew.  His eyes met hers over the rapid rise and fall of her chest, his voice rough with hunger, “Gods, you are beautiful here.”

                Her eyes fell shut at the first touch of his warm wet mouth, as he savored her slowly, his groan at the taste of her mingled with her own.  She had never experienced the way he pleasured her before, the angle of his mouth and tongue nearly sideways over her pearl as he drew her leg over his shoulder.  He swirled, licked, circled and flicked at her, finding the one motion that brought her the most pleasure.  He knew he had discovered it when she gripped his head and cried out sharply, her hips jerking against his mouth.

                “Again, please,” as she moaned her need.  He did as she asked, desperate to hear and feel her release.  He drew her between his lips, his tongue circling her so slowly she wanted to plead for him to go faster, but the sensations that ran through her were so euphoric she dared not rush him.  He coaxed her pleasure from her slowly, built it as they had their love, with care and time.  The sounds that came from between her legs were positively sinful; he seemed to enjoy this nearly as much as she did.  But that couldn’t possibly be true, for her body felt consumed by the fire he had started in her with his words and his touch.  She knew her orgasm was close, the muscles of her inner thighs began to tremble and the slow pace of his tongue was no longer enough, the heat in her belly needed more.

                “Gods, faster.”  Her impassioned moan for more made his manhood throb, and he gave her what she needed, wanting to watch the rapture overtake her.  The tight fast circles of his tongue around her pearl were exactly what her body craved as she ground against his mouth, his eyes watching her face as her brows knit together, as if in concentration, her eyes tightly shut as an endless stream of cries and incoherent words came from her.

                Her pearl hardened further against his tongue and her whole body tensed, her hand gripped hard in his hair, as her sex throbbed, a gush of wetness coating his tongue.  Delicious fire spread through her body from where his mouth touched her, the pleasure so intense she could only half finish his name as she chanted it over and over again in time with the pulses of pleasure.  He slowed his movements, drawing out her desire, until her body shuddered and she whimpered, “Please, it is too much”.

                He kissed his way up her body, the evidence of her release wet against her skin from his lips and beard.  She grasped his face in her hands once he had returned to her side and kissed him fiercely, moaning at the taste of herself on his mouth.  What he had done with his mouth made her only desire him more and she was desperate to finally join their bodies.

                She curled her leg over his hip and drew his body onto hers, reaching down between their bodies to grasp his manhood, drawing him through her folds, covering him in her slickness.  She angled her hips just so, and he slipped easily inside her, her eyes wide at the way he filled her, their gasps warm against each other’s lips.  He pulled back to look at her, resting his weight on his right elbow as his left hand cupped her jaw.  Their labored breathing synchronized as they gazed at one another.  The adoration she saw in his eyes made her want to weep, no other man had ever looked at her this way, as if she was a miracle, or as he had once told her, that he couldn’t believe she was real.  Time seemed infinite and yet not enough.  No words were needed, for their gaze held volumes.  He leaned down and kissed her then as he withdrew from her slowly, the pace of his thrusts as unhurried as his kiss.  Her legs wrapped high around his waist and he groaned as much from the pleasure as he did from the slight pain as her knee pressed against his healed wound. 

                Realizing what she had just inadvertently done, she pulled from their kiss, her eyes full of concern, “Perhaps it is yet too soon for us to make love.”

                He chuckled softly, “No, my love, it could not be soon enough.  I only need move your leg,” as he grasped the hollow of her knee and placed her right leg higher on his body, the sharp inhalation of her breath told him he had discovered something new within her at the shift of her position, “and now it is perfect.”

                His smile reassured her that he felt no pain, only pleasure now, and he kissed her again, resuming his slow measured thrusts.  Her hands gripped and caressed his taut arms and shoulders and the flex of the muscles of his back as he held most of his weight off of her.  Jorah was surprised at his own restraint, seeing as he had not lain with a woman in so very long.  He had been convinced he would not be able to last, but it was love that made him want to put her first in everything he did for her and to see to her gratification before his own.  His hips did not deviate from his slow pace as he leaned down, suckling and teasing her nipples before finding again that place along her neck that made her writhe under him, her soft pleading cries music to his ears. 

                Her heels pressed into his lower back and her hips rose to meet his thrusts, her body telling him that his present pace was no longer enough.  He sped up then, rolling his hips as he thrust down into her.  She moaned and gripped at his body with each roll of his hips, the head of his shaft stroking along a place she had never found before.

                “Gods, what-“ her neck arching as the pleasure stole her mind, suddenly unable to think let alone finish her sentence.

                He marveled at the thought that he gave her something no man had ever given her before.  He thrust into her faster, harder, wanting her to come apart for him because he could no longer hold back his own release.  She reached down between their bodies and stroked her pearl, her legs gripped him tightly and her breath caught as the first wave of bliss took her away, sobbing his name.

                The throb of her sex and the sound of his name on her lips brought his orgasm to the brink.

“Love, I’m-“, his words a strangled moan.

                She gripped him tighter to her, needing him to stay within her, as she whispered against his lips, “I want to feel your release inside me.”

                And he did, in long hot pulses, his arms shaking as his head tipped back and he groaned her name.  He very nearly collapsed on her, his body spent and his mind unable to focus on anything but the powerful sensations that coursed through his body.  He found her gazing at him, her bottom lip between her teeth, a look of total satisfaction on her face.

                “Mmm, my bear, will it always be this way between us?”  She sighed as he slipped from her body to lie at her side, gathering her to him, drawing her leg over his hips.

                He chuckled, still trying to catch his breath.  “I have no doubt.”  He kissed the top of her head and she snuggled against him.

                She lay there listening to his heart for a time before she lifted her head and found his eyes closed.  “It is the love between us that makes the physical so intense.”  His eyes opened at her words, and he watched her hand as it rubbed delicately at her breastbone.  “The feeling here when I look at you and know that no other man will ever have my heart.”

                His hand came to rest over hers.  “Yes, love,” he said before he took it and placed it on his chest, the steady beat of him under her hand, “as you have always had mine. And will forever.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer applies.

The rest of the journey passed quickly, at least for Jorah and Daenerys.  They rarely left their cabin, and when they did, it was only to eat or for her to tend to an urgent matter, with her Knight ever by her side.  The others onboard smiled at the obvious affection between the two and were surprised to discover that Jorah did in fact smile and, on occasion, even laughed.

                But none more so than Tyrion, who took every opportunity he could to tease the Knight about it.  But Jorah did not mind his jests overly much, as he was too deeply enamored to care.  And while Tyrion was also happy for them that they had finally consummated their love, he did not want to hear the passionate cries of his Queen, and certainly not the deep moans of Mormont, on many instances during the day and nearly every night.  So he spent most of the time on deck, and when he did have to venture below, he plugged his ears and hummed loudly to himself, praying for the day when he would finally be off this blasted boat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a departure from my other works. I hope this doesn't confuse anyone and I'm sorry if it does. I will clarify my works to ease any confusion going forward. As always, please review/leave kudos. It feeds the muse :)
> 
> Next, I will post a AU modern Jorah/Daenerys.


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